Into the Wind
by frayed-hope
Summary: A dark & twisted tale with a pinch of comedy and plenty of hate, sex, anger, love, betrayal, lust, pain, deception, angst, blood, revenge, torture, mystery, nausea.. Need we go on? FULL SUMMARY INSIDE Coauth. by the one&only, RootbeerFloat! M FOR A REASON
1. Innocently Trapped

_Full Summary: A dark and twisted tale with a pinch of comedy and buckets full of: hate, sex, anger, love, betrayal, lust, pain, deception, angst, blood, revenge, torture, mystery, nausea… Now, the Dark Lord requires only one element. One Death Eater that IS perfection. No emotion, no pain, no regret, strength, obedience, and most importantly without a heart. She, a tool for that Death Eater to become perfection, comes into play just as their 7th year at Hogwarts is about to begin. And all too soon there is no good or evil, only the choices inbetween. By me and the one & only, RootbeerFloat! (Warning: Rated M for EXPLICIT content, violence, and **profanity**)_

**A/N (Frayed-hope):** Hey everybody! This is MY first Harry Potter fanfiction and first collaboration, so please do Amy (RootbeerFloatShallPrevail- which I am sure most of you know as RootbeerFloat) and me a favor and review when you have read each chapter of Into the Wind. There will be replies to reviews at the beginning of the next chapter. And just to clarify before hand, character's thoughts are portrayed in italics. I thank you for reading this announcement, and enjoy the first chapter. 

**A/N (RootbeerFloatShallPrevail):** Hello everyone, and welcome to our story Into The Wind! This is Amy, AKA RootbeerFloat. I used to have an account called RootbeerFloat and RootbeerFloatResurrected. I've held the record with the most reviews in Harry Potter history with 4,800 and something, before my account got deleted for no reason. And now I have teamed up with the famous (or should I say infamous) frayed-hope to bring you this compelling novel! (Everyone knows Sarah, AKA frayed-hope's the better author, but she won't admit it, and she better not delete this part of the A/N. lol.) I was very honored when she came to me. We're taking a plot that's been used and making it into something new, hip, and interesting. AND NOT CLICHÉ. We despise clichés. I'm writing Draco's side of it, and she's writing Hermione's…well most of the time, occasionally we might switch off, or work completely together on a chapter. In my opinion, that works better that way because I can't get into Hermione's character as much as Draco's. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review! If you would like to read my stories, my penname now is: RootbeerFloatShallPrevail. On my bio is a link to my stories that were deleted! HAVE FUN! Apple Hugs And Vanilla Kisses!

**Disclaimers:** RootbeerFloatShallPrevial and Frayed-Hope do NOT own anything but the plot of this story, and possibly a few new characters, objects, places, and spells later on.

**NOTICE: This chapter has been revised, edited, and CHANGED. Not only has an approximate 450 some words been added, but the writing style (aka Sarah's writing style) has changed …somewhat. So please feel free to reread the chapters that have this notice!**

_Innocently Trapped_

**-Chapter 1-**

Like grains of sand tossed roughly into the wind, or pebbles dropped into a stream, she felt trapped. The sand destined to wherever the wind blows, the pebbles destined to wherever water flows, for her heartless father was the element trapping her. Not her actual father but her stepfather, who had "accidentally" taken the life of her mom. Of course, he was drunk so he can't recall plunging the broken, glass beer bottle into his new wife, Emily Granger's side then stabbing a kitchen knife into the once warm and sheltering depths of her heart.

They had only been married a total of four months and two weeks before Andrew had _innocently_ murdered Hermione's mom. Or so thought the law and justice of the court. They had tried Andrew Klertain for murder, and somehow or another he got away with only a fine for drunk driving; and thus, this was due to a few mere persuasions. The _FACTS_: One, there were no witnesses. Two, he was drunk. Three, he had fabricated that all he ordered was soda, and insisted somebody had spiked it. Four, being a highly thought of lawyer and supposedly never cheating or lying, at least not straight out to the judge anyways, definitely helped his position. And therefore, the judge finally found Andrew to be… _innocent_.

The only person that knows Andrew to be a killer, besides Emily Granger, who is currently resting in her coffin, remains Hermione. She had known for a fact that he had an occasional drink every so often to relieve some of the stress from those 'oh so intense' cases at work. She also knew that his temper would increasingly rise once he consumed a single drop of intoxicating alcohol, much like a rather severe side effect. Obviously Hermione put two and two together and came to the unfortunate conclusion; her sweet, old step dad had deprived her from the loving arms of her last living parent, forever.

Ever since the morning when Hermione resolved that her mother was intentionally killed from watching the local news, to this day, two weeks before her seventh year at Hogwarts, Andrew has been … well, you'll find out soon enough. He blames her for the death of Emily, and constantly beats her with what is beginning to be his trademark torture devise, the always handy, broken beer bottles. These pain-inflicting colored glasses, some with the toxic substance still in them, littered the kitchen and piled in the corners of almost every room. Shattered glass covered some sections of the floor like a thick rainforest canopy.

"Oh Mioneee, dear! Come make papa breakfast…" No audible answer. "Hermione! Get your sorry ass over here and make me breakfast, NOW!" Demanded Andrew in a disgustingly creepy and menacing tone that undoubtedly came naturally for him. This was his way of saying 'you either do as I say, or get it'.

"Coming!" Hermione immediately answered as she rushed towards the kitchen in bare feet, trailing a thin line of liquid. She glanced at her feet and at the glass tips sticking out, signaling the glass pieces to be embedded deep within her flesh; such is the result of stepping on the shards repeatedly, making them sink further into her scarlet-blanketed feet. Not really giving notice to the dull pain snaking its way up her ankles, she made strong eye contact with Andrew. And so began a whole new day, with a whole new, or rather renewed, bravery.

"Good morning, _sir_." She said in a tone dripping with sarcasm. She knew she shouldn't be behaving this way, but she refused to be treated like some animal, a slave at that, even if she couldn't physically do anything about it. She had not lost her witty mind, her courageous spirit, or her fighting soul; all in all, she figured she had nothing to worry about as long as she could get away from the monster as soon as possible, get food, mend her injuries, and stay safe until school starts.

"Don't you be snotty with me, girl," he picked up a piece of glass and jabbed her arm before Hermione even had a chance to register the threat, "Or our little playtime will be extend. As for breakfast," he mused and eyed her dangerously, "lightly salted scrambled eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice with lots of lemon juice added, one piece of toast with light butter, and a freshly baked blueberry muffin. And let me warn you, if anything goes wrong, if you dare to try to sneak something in my food again, if that orange juice is bitter-"

Her eyes flashed with loathing as she pulled the piece of bottle from her arm and gazed at the blood trickling down from the gash in rather thick streams. Her stomach did a slight flip out of starvation and a sickening feeling swept over her as warm scarlet rolled across her arm. Food. She needed food. Hermione hadn't eaten in two days. She looked up and answered him while glaring at him in the eyes. "Yes, of course. Coming right up." _Your wish is my command, you bloody bastard, what do I look like to you, a fucking genie in a bottle?_ She thought sourly. She gave him the best fake smile she could muster and spun on her heels, heading to the kitchen.

"Oh, and sweetheart, no magic remember; wouldn't want you overusing your gift now would we? Certainly that old fool of a headmaster of yours would be very disappointed in your expulsion." Andrew announced. Hermione rolled her eyes and growled in anger as she thought, _Old fool? Dumbledore? That's a real bloody laugh, if anyone around here is an old fool it's you. And you're so much more than that; you're a fucking madman!_

Not quite gracing the description of a madman, Andrew was a wizard working as a muggle lawyer, for he could always "persuade" the client into giving him more money than truly necessary. _More like conjure up a little spell to make them cough up their wallets,_ Hermione thought with a snort. He would never leave the muggle world and return to his homeland. Why? The answer can be simply stated as this: since he was as greedy and stubborn a man as could ever be imagined, he fancied where he lived and the monetary power that it accompanied oh so sweetly.

"As always, you're right." Muttered Hermione. _When will he ever realize it's one thing to break my body, but it's another to break my heart? Come on Hermione, you're not the smartest witch in your class, heck even generation, for nothing! You will flee, find food and shelter, and then… and then._ She smiled to herself. _School! I just, I just know I can't do this, play this sick game of his, much longer. I need a way out…_ Hermione thought as she started her usual task of cooking breakfast. She began to think up escape plans and tried desperately not to think of the past couple weeks at his mercy, just the image of the Hogwarts castle and what academic accomplishments the future would hold.

Ms. Granger was not paying attention to the job at hand, and proceeded to butter the charred toast, all the while reflecting on her changed life. She finished and slapped it onto the plate along side the eggs and blueberry muffin. Looking around quickly she snatched a slice of bread and stuffed it into her mouth, swallowing with a hard gulp. For everything she had survived through, she certainly was not going to let herself die of starvation. Grabbing a quick sip of water, she started on her task of squeezing oranges. Once again, she lost focus and let precisely two seeds into the juice concoction.

"Hurry it up! I want that meal hot and ready by the time I get down there!" Yelled Andrew. About five minutes later he was in the dining hall with his briefcase, sitting and strumming his fingers expectantly. "I have an important case today, unfortunately not your execution trial for Emily's death," he sneered jesterly, "but it is important none the less... damn mudblood, HURRY UP! I told you to have it ready minutes ago!"

"Coming!" She responded in a monotone voice. She emerged through the entrance to the dining room, carrying a plate full of food and a tall glass of lemon mixed orange juice, the thought had slipped her mind to add sugar to make it less bitter. She placed the food in front of him and waited for his sly voice to mark her next orders.

"What are you doing? Leave me in peace you filthy mut." She had a diminutive trace of a smile at the fact that she circumvented a thrashing this morning. _Must be a very important case._ On the way to her room she could have sworn she heard him say 'Not very bright, but certainly a decent slut'. Her smile slid from her features. _I have to get away._

Dammit Hermione, why are you so slow to react these days? You're slowly dying and with each attempt you've made, you only grow weaker and Andrew smarter. My pride has long since left; only traces of the dignity and innocence I once held so highly have been left to rot in this corpse of a body with a fading soul. My last chance at saving myself from the life of a household whore for him lies in escaping and hiding until school starts again.

School starts in two weeks so why haven't I received any sort of notification from Dumbledore yet? Surely I made head girl, I mean, I do get the top grades in the entire school, and have been since first year. I wonder if I'll even make it to Hogwarts, I just... I know I've lost a lot of blood over the weeks, and as much as I hate to admit it, some of my bravery's gone too. That man made me so fucking paranoid. Half the time I sleep in a pool of blood or tears but I just can't bring myself to believe that I, Hermione Granger, am now checking around every corner and jumping at mere shadows. He's taken everything from me but my intelligence... My mind may go hazy at times but it's certainly more stable than Ron's ever was. She sighed heavily._ I'm such a mess. He did this to me, and not just me, he had to first kill mum. I just need, I need to break from his crushing hold. Once he leaves for his big case I'll make a break for it and by the time his spells warn- _

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted, "Oh Hermione, darling please come here a second." His words were civil but his tone aggravated. _Great. Just absolutely wonderful, he's either going to make me to do something degrading or beat the hell out of me; but what the fuck? I didn't even do anything wrong._ But as her conscience tried to reason with her body telling her not to go, blood-trailing feet were carrying her to where he was. _Shit, don't go to him! Hermione! You dumbass, what are you doing??_ She soon arrived at the side of the seething man who was twisting a lock of his slick brown hair viciously.

"Trying to slip mistakes past me, huh bitch? Think you'd get away with it?!" Andrew warned. "I don't think so." He had a bottle hidden behind him. He swiftly swung and broke it on her shoulder. The liquid rushed out, exposing its razor sharp edges. Hermione's eyes cringed shut, _Not again…_ she choked back a sob, she knew what was coming.

Aiming to get away, she ran and abruptly tripped, a new piece of glass appeared, wedged into her foot at such an angle that it collided with bone and simply wouldn't sink any further. She scrambled, trying to stand up and run but only managed a few feet before he snatched her neck and shoved her against the kitchen counter-top. He tightened his grip to stop her thrashing. Suddenly, her face was slammed down on the corner of the table and Andrew jerked Hermione into a position that immobilized both her arms and legs.

Ripping off her blouse, he used one hand to take a sliver of glass and cut a deep line from the side of her neck to the opposite shoulder blade. Hermione groaned. Meanwhile, Andrew's other hand dangerously traced the hem of her shorts and without warning, promptly forced three masculine fingers into her warm core. A mix of terror and sheer pain escaped her bleeding lip in a muffled scream. He laughed, oh how he loved it when she screamed. "Next time, mudblood, I won't be as forgiving." And with that he withdrew his hand and, for his final move, poured the lemon-orange juice over her wounded back. Hermione's chocolate-colored eyes fluttered and rolled back into her head as her weak whimpering came to a halt.

_S-S-some… bod.. elp mm.._ Then all went black, peacefully yet painfully pitch black.

**A/N (Both of Us): **So, watcha think? Tell us in a nice long review! We both will appreciate it! Thank you for reading the first chapter, and we hope you'll follow up on this story.


	2. Summer of Forced Perfection

**A/N (Frayed-Hope): **EVERYBODY WHO REVIEWED- THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! We both really appreciate it!! Do it again, and review for all of the future chapters! Thanks from us both!

**A/N (RootbeerFloat):** Hmm… I really don't have much to say. Sarah is SO the better author. – And I don't want to hear about the 'grammar and spelling mistakes.' I'm sorry, but that gets old after awhile, and if you start commenting on it I assume you're wanting your fifteen minutes of shout outs on us telling you to get a life. So please, as quoted in Bambi: If you can't say anything nice, don't say nothing at all.

**NOTICE: This chapter has been revised and edited (only slightly for this one). An approximate 170 some words been added. So please feel free to reread the chapter!**

The Summer of Forced Perfection 

-**Chapter 2**-

Draco sat eating breakfast on this fine morning. His face was serene as he flipped through the many pages of 'The Daily Prophet.' A few articles about criminals, bank robberies (all attempted) and the usual 'Dark Lord' question of 'has he returned?' Of course, the blundering fools didn't call the Dark Lord 'The Dark Lord,' they called him He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Draco scoffed at the idea and took a bite of his waffles. They were the only things that could calm him down after an episode like last night.

As he took a swig of his milk, he recalled the bone chilling cackle of laughter that had played in his ears. With a quick shrug of the head he pushed away the unhappy memories and checked his watch. It was nearly time for his father to come down, ranting about the Ministry and it's downfall. On schedule, Lucius Malfoy strutted down the stairs with another copy of 'The Daily Prophet.'

"I must say, Draco, this new article on House Elf Rights is rather… idiotic." Lucius said as he strolled in the kitchen. "Who on earth would support such a ludicrous idea?"

"I don't know, Father." Draco replied automatically. He took another sip of his milk and grasped that his father was staring at him with that oh-so-famous Malfoy smirk. "Yes?" He asked.

"Concealing charms holding up alright? – You're excessively set up on appearance." Lucius snapped his fingers and instantly a small house elf with big eyes apparated in the room.

"Would Master like something?" It asked, bowing in fear of Malfoy Senior.

"Some brandy and my cane, Hobbles." Lucius sneered, "I'm going out."

"When will you be back?" Draco asked as the house elf tottered off to fetch its master's belongings.

"Sometime tonight. We will have guests so make sure you clean up the house. And get those silly concealer charms off of yourself. Wear your true self with pride. The Dark Lord wont be pleased if he finds you made up as you are." Lucius tapped his foot impatiently. "Hobbles!"

"Hobbles is coming, Sir!" Hobbles shouted shrilly, carrying a black cane with a snake on the edge made out of gold and a small bottle of brandy. He handed them to Lucius with a bow, and Lucius struck the house elf down with his cane. "Hobbles deserved that…" Hobbles replied, trundling himself out of his master's way as he almost stepped on the poor creature. Lucius smirked and grabbed his coat off of a hanger.

"I expect that girlish magic off of you when I get back." He sneered as he shut the door to the Manor. Draco rolled his eyes and flipped through the many pages of the paper again. Nothing was interesting enough for him to actually read. He sat the paper down and took the last few bites of his waffles. "Hobbles, clean the kitchen up, will you?" He asked with a smirk and left the kitchen. "And I expect the house clean when Father returns!"

He put his hands in his pockets of his kakis and strolled down the west wing. Along the walls were images of Malfoys that had passed before him, all with their prominent smirks. Draco cursed his whole family for having that smirk he was famous for. It was something he prided himself on when he was younger, but now… now he just wanted to get away from it all. "Wonder what Crabbe and Goyle are doing…" He said to himself as he shuffled his feet. "Probably snogging the faces off their ugly girlfriends. Heh, if I even had a _friend_ I'd be happy." He sighed and stopped at the picture of his father at the end of the hallway.

"Hello." The picture father said. "Is there something you want, Draco?"

"Yeah, my old life back." Draco whispered, and flipped the portrait off. The depiction in turn smirked and glared at Draco. Draco stuck out his tongue immaturely and strolled down to the corner of the hall and found the staircase he was looking for. It took him two hundred forty three steps for him to climb the staircase, but it was worth it. He reached the bathroom and took out his wand. "Father wants me to get rid of my perfect face… I don't think I like being a Death Eater so much now." He examined his strong chin a moment or two, setting the wand down on the counter. "What's the matter with wanting to look my best?" His steel gray eyes examined his pale face with interest. "I'll get rid of the charms later." He picked up his wand and left the lavatory. Down the hallway he found his room. He was just about to go in when a slam of the door from below him made him stop and listen.

"Draco!" Someone called from downstairs. "Come down stairs! Mommy has some tea and cookies for you!" Draco winced and cursed under his breath. He never enjoyed his mother's cooking. She managed to burn the bread and make the tea too strong.

"I'll… be down in a moment!" He shouted, and sighed. Tucking his wand away he slid down the banister and as he landed at the bottom of the stairs, he jumped off. His footsteps echoed through the house as he jogged into the living room. A high chandelier hung fifty feet above his head. "Yes, Mother?"

"Oh, come sit, Draco." She said, patting a seat next to her on the couch. "Your father won't be back for quite a while, so we should enjoy the silence."

"Yeah… the silence of me not screaming." Draco whispered.

"What was that, puppet?"

"Nothing." Draco shook his head and took a seat next to his mother. "Err… what kind of cookies are these?"

"Oh, chocolate chip." She smiled. "Don't tell your father, but I used a muggle recipe."

"Mother, you know how Father is with muggle things." Draco retorted.

"Yes, but…" She trailed off as the doorbell rang. "Oh, good! The Parkinsons are here!" She exclaimed.

"Mum!" Draco whispered. "No!"

"Oh, dear. You don't have to stay if you don't want to." She said, coating her words with guilt, "But I know it's rather rude to lock yourself in your room when your own classmate is here---"

"Goodbye, Mother." Draco kissed his Mom on the cheek and took off up the stairs again. He didn't want the hassle of staring at Pansy with a blank expression for hours while his Mother and Pansy's Mum talked about Tea Cozies and Death Eaters. When he arrived at his room he locked it with as many locking charms as he could think of and lied down on the bed. His head throbbed with pain and memories while he closed his eyes and started to whistle. "God damn it, I want a normal life." He whispered. "Why can't I have REAL friends?" He covered his face with a pillow and screamed into it. He hated his life with a passion, but didn't have the courage to end it. Maybe something, he thought, would happen to give his life more meaning. "What's the point in being a minion to---" He screamed out in pain as his Dark Mark started to throb. "Great. _He's_ near too. Father must be arriving home early."

With the pillow still lying on his face he began to imagine a place that would be perfect. Somewhere out of this mess. Somewhere that could save him from this unpleasant place called 'Draco Malfoy's Life.' In the few short months that he had become a Death Eater, he had been beaten, struck, and cursed by the Dark Lord. It had become a normal routine. Wake up, eat some waffles, think about life, and get the shit knocked out of him. Yawning, he rolled on his side and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Draco woke up not to the sound of cheerful laughter or a 'wake up' call. No, it was something much worse. The chilling feeling he got over his body when his Father arrived back home. "Draco! Get down here, boy!" Lucius called from the bottom of the staircase. Draco groaned and sat up. He rubbed his eyes a bit and licked his dry lips. "NOW!"

"Coming!" Draco shouted, then whispered, "You lug." He shook his head a little more to remove the sluggish feeling, and then wished for the exhausted sensation to come back as his head throbbed with pain. He jumped up off the bed, tottered about from losing his balance, and removed the locking charms off his door. With a deep breath he ran down stairs and brushed away a few stray locks of blonde hair from the front of his face. When he arrived downstairs, many hooded figures raised their heads up in recognition. Draco straightened his backbone, pushed his shoulders back, and marched in with his head held high.

"Good evening, Draco…" A hissed voice spoke in the center of the Death Eaters. "Have a nice nap?" All around many snickers and chuckles were taken notice of.

"Yes, My Lord – actually I was---" Draco started.

"Silence!" The voice demanded. "All my loyal followers are free to go tonight… except the Malfoys. – This meeting has been adjourned." The hooded figures silently left in a line out of the living room. Draco gulped and stood, waiting for his commands. "Lucius… did you do as I asked you? To beat some manners into this boy?"

Lucius stepped forward. "Yes my Lord. Twice as much as you asked me to."

"Then why are there no verifications of this?" The Dark Lord asked, his head hooded and hidden under black cloth. Draco felt as if a Dementor was in the room with him, draining every ounce of happiness out of his tall, six foot one, body.

"I assure you, My Lord, Draco must have a decent explanation for this." Lucius said in a rush, shooting a glare Draco's way.

"I put a concealer charm on myself." Draco said, taking a step forward. "I was ashamed."

"Ashamed of your training?" The Dark Lord asked. "You do realize this is to make you stronger, Draco. To make you powerful. No emotions. Only confidence."

"Yes, My Lord." Draco nodded, a bead of sweat dripping off his brow.

"Then you must also realize that this deserves punishment for being ashamed of whom you are?"

"Yes, My Lord." Draco replied.

"Then step forward, Draco." The airy voice commanded. Draco closed his eyes and fearfully took three steps to the Dark Lord. "Closer – I must teach you strength. Looks are not everything." Draco gulped and made his way slowly to the Dark Lord. As soon as he stopped moving, Voldemort backhanded him, sending him to the ground from the force of the blow.

"You're to be perfect, Draco. If whipping you is the only way to gain perfection, then so be it." Draco awaited his consequence as a kick was sent into his ribs, knocking the air out of him. Again and again he was sent into physical torture by the form of kicks. They seemed to be the Dark Lord's specialty, without using magic. When Draco started to cough up vomit and blood, the Dark Lord ceased and drew his wand. "Now, Draco. We'll teach you yet." He whispered. Draco looked longingly to his father for help, but Lucius only stood in the corner and smirked. That hurt Draco more than anything. His father's smirk. That's why he hated it so much.

The Dark Lord jerked his wand and Draco's body was sent on his feet. To the left went Voldemort's wand, and to the left went Draco, and was slammed up against a wall. "Ouch!" He screamed, as his head landed on a picture, and the glass covering the photo broke from his skull.

"Does it hurt, Draco?" The Dark Lord asked. "We must not let you feel pain. Pain is something to be left in the past." He paced in front of Draco, and instantly put chains up on the wall; so, his father fastened Draco to the chains. Lucius then went back to his normal spot in the corner. "Pain, Draco, is what normal humans feel. Normal is not in our vocabulary. Perfection is what we strive for; is what you should strive for every day. When pain has left you, a piece of your soul will leave you. It will feel like an on going high… and you'll never be the same. But if you are to be my best Death Eater, you shall feel nothing. You shall think like an assassin, and you shall breathe like it was your last breath every time. You shall be perfect, and then, soon, unstoppable."

Voldemort removed his hood slowly and revealed his snakelike eyes and his bald, gray skin. "But until you learn to accept pain as a normal sensation, you cannot remove it." He tilted his wand and pressed it hard to Draco's chest. "Crucio!" Draco screamed out, knowing he shouldn't have, and struggled to clutch his stomach. Every nerve in his body cried in pain and suffering.

"Father… make it stop!" He shouted to Lucius. But Lucius only smiled and crossed his arms contently. Twenty minutes passed with thrashing and curses before Draco passed out. Voldemort chuckled and looked to Lucius.

"Make him strong, Lucius. He has much to learn."

"My Lord?" Malfoy Senior inquired.

"The Ministry and Order have been receiving rumors that I have neared this area, twice on occasions. So, I must hide away for a period of time. I am leaving you in charge of Draco's lessons. Be sure to beat him once a day. ONLY once. If he still feels pain in a week, don't permit him to eat. He shall quickly comprehend what lies he has left behind – and what truth lies ahead." Voldemort patted Lucius on the shoulder and left the Manor in complete ghostly silence.


	3. His Contribution

**NOTICE: This chapter has been revised, edited, and CHANGED! An approximate _1,190_ some words have been added! So please feel free to reread the chapter!**

_His Contribution_

-**Chapter 3**-

Silence. Darkness. Pain.

The breaking point that ultimately engulfed her in defeat had left her body helplessly comatose. Deprived of consciousness for nearly three and a half hours, Hermione awoke with her head pounding and with the sense of being violated. Sitting up ever so slowly and writhing in pain, she rolled her head forward and looked around hazily, coming to find that she was lying in a pool of liquid; the taste in her was mouth distinct and automatically she recognized the metallic tang of blood.

Her hand inched its way to her back where a sharp stinging aroused. She clawed a little at it and pulled a stringy clump of something out of the recently made wound. Gazing down at it, she tried to figure out what it was. _What in the name of Merlin? Oh, oh my god…_ She remembered as a nasty, sick feeling rose in the empty pit of her stomach. Well not exactly empty, yet, her stomach lurched and she sharply turned to her side, vomiting up the only food she'd had in days. It was just as well, it wasn't settling in her stomach accustomed to malnutrition anyways.

_It's hair… hair? MY hair! Well that would certainly explain it._ Hermione thought bitterly, a line of spit dangling fragilely off her chin._ Ugh, he's worse than a Malfoy treats his servants! And that's really saying something._ She sighed.Her eyes widened, straining to hear his movement in the house, while her conscience kicked in. _Of course he's not here, use your head Hermione, it's midday so he's at work. Screw Andrew and his damned notification spells. I'm running. If his case is truly so high and mighty, then he will be too busy to even attempt stopping me. _She let out a tense exhale that she didn't realize she was holding in.

It took Hermione practically fifteen minutes just to stand up. Taking out the awkwardly angled glass, which had been the source of her trip, caused her to trail even more blood. She estimated that she had roughly two hours to leave and get as far away as possible. Making her agonizing way to her bathroom on the second floor, Hermione stepped into the shower and turned on the water. Andrew had oh-so-cleverly charmed it for Hermione. It would randomly spurt freezing and boiling hot water in the effort to burn her skin. _Any possible way he could make my life living hell, he'd do it. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew Lucius Malfoy and the Malfoy family personally, being the 'mudblood-hating' bastards that they are._ She didn't know if Andrew was a pureblood, but somehow it just wouldn't shock her if he was.

Soon the clear water turned a murky crimson-brown color. Leaning on the tiled wall for support, she gently rinsed her hair with shampoo and watched as the water washed away the dried blood on her skin. Once revealing the wounds, gashes, and third degree burns marring her delicate flesh, the water flowed onto the floor and into the drain. Luckily, Hermione was naturally blessed with skin that healed quickly, hardly ever scarring. She grimaced with familiar agony when hot liquid scraped at her skin, taking layers of it away with the constant downpour.

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Draco stood in the shower taking in deep, jagged breaths. His ribs were throbbing with uncontrollable pain as he endured the memories of the Dark Lord's piercing eyes. True, the physical soreness was subsiding at a good pace, but that wouldn't change the fact that his father had wronged him in so many ways. When Draco needed him the most, he had only smirked. It pained Draco so much to know that his father was being a bastard from hell. With frustration, he allowed the cool water of the shower to drip down off his eyebrows and chin, down over his pale collarbone, and down to his chest. There it was washed away, dripping down his body until the water made it down the drain.

----------

Using all of her weight, Hermione leaned on the shower knob to turn off the flow of water. It was one of those showers that, instead of sporting a dial for means of turning it on and off, it had a push in- pull out knob that, when pulled out and then turned, adjusted the temperature accordingly. Although, in Hermione's case, changing the water temperature was a luxury she lacked since her mom's 'very mysterious' death.

Hermione drug herself out of the shower, looking at the floor the entire time so as not to see herself in the mirror. She didn't want to see the state she was in, she didn't want to see how defeated and weak she looked; she didn't want to see herself. Absolutely nothing at all, not even a glimpse. Closing the door to her bathroom behind her, Hermione ambled around her room gathering three sets of clothes and the essentials; you know, the hairbrush, toothbrush, muggle scar-remover cream, her wand (which wasn't of much help during the summer, seeing as its only used could be tapping someone with a stick), and the like. She'd need more clothes, but being the intelligent girl she was, decided to purposely pack lightly in order to get farther away, faster, and ultimately in less pain. As gently as she could, Hermione dressed herself in one of the three sets clothing and packed the collected items in a bag. She staggered downstairs and took three muggle painkillers called Advil, as well as grabbed an apple, two pieces of wheat bread, and a water bottle.

By the time Hermione had finally gotten herself to the door, it was nearly time for Andrew to be back. She silently swore at herself for not minding her time more wisely and opened the massive front door with a resounding creak. Immediately, dark blue sparks showered from the flat inside of the doorframe while multiple, airy voices seemed to whisper 'you've been warned' and 'he'll find you, get you..you…you….'. Hermione rolled her already tired eyes knowing full well that Andrew's enchanted escape alarm was just initiated and he would soon know Hermione was no longer in the house. As she strode out of the large house with her head held high and pride shinning in her eyes, despite her weary and sore body, some of the deep blue sparks settled on her hair and quickly disappeared before she observed them.

The late afternoon rambled on, exchanging hours with that of the evening darkness. The chilling evening air swooped and howled past buildings and the lonely streets that a single girl walked upon. Her stride, consisting of short lingering steps, seemed to be weighing her down as she drew in rapid breaths.

The night droned on, bringing with it darker shades of black until the contrasting, pale moon could almost be recognized. The girl paused, taking note of the wide curb of the street, it appeared _so_ inviting. She dropped the single bag she was carrying and lowered herself into a sitting position next to it. Apparently she'd been walking for quite a while. She heaved a great sigh. Closing her eyes and intending for only a minute's rest, she slumped back a little and yawned, drifting into a light, drowsy slumber. Instantly, from the alley behind her, a foreign shadow emerged out of the darkness, looking down at her with two eyes and a gleaming, white grin. He knew, oh yes, he certainly knew. He knew exactly what was to be done.

----------

'_Take those silly concealer charms off yourself, boy._' His father's voice rang in his ears. '_Wear your true self with pride_.' Draco scoffed at the idea. "My true self?" He pondered aloud. _And just what would my true self be?_ Of course, Draco knew. He knew that every time he walked into the shower and stepped back out, his true self would play. The dark circles against his pale skin would glow; the cuts across his cheeks would always seem present. No – he wasn't beaten every day. But when he was, for speaking his mind about something, nothing turned out well for Draco. That's why he enjoyed Hogwarts. He could scoff at the Dream Team and not get the shit beaten out of him for it.

But Draco knew that when he stepped out of this shower, he would have to act as if the whole ordeal was nothing but a dream, or a nightmare perhaps. His father would be back to his normal self, and the Dark Lord would act as if nothing was out of the ordinary… but the more Draco thought about it… was the Dark Lord still there when he had awoken two hours later? Disgruntled, Draco exited the shower, not even bothering to turn the water off. Life was too short, in his opinion, to bother with silly things like turning off the shower. So a small part of the earth's water supply would be wasted – so what? There was always the water cycle.

Draco smirked as he grabbed up a green towel and began to dry off. He shook his head and water droplets flew all around the room. Satisfied, he walked over to the bathroom counter and wrapped another towel, which was sitting on the counter, around his middle. He didn't dare look in the mirror. Not yet, anyways. The mirror used to be his best friend; he knew he was down right shaggable. But nowadays, the fact that he'd have a black eye or cut would always seem to turn Pansy off when she came over. That's one reason Draco didn't like Pansy over- or really, he didn't like any of the Parkisons at all. They always judged him on how much discipline he had gone through that showed up on his face. Concealing charms were a man's best friend in the world of today.

But now it was time for Draco to look at himself in the mirror, to face who he was as a man, as a Death Eater. He raised his head only to find he didn't look half as bad as he was expecting. There was a cut along his lower lip and a bruise on his collarbone (as well as many other bruises on his ribs), but he was expecting far worse. Smirking to himself, he grabbed up his gel that smelled like apples and combed it through his medium length hair. After pampering himself for ten minutes, he heard loud footsteps in the hallway and he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Lucius, I know what that means." A deep, gruffly voice spoke. Draco walked slowly to the door and leaned his ear on it so he could hear. It was, after all, his Slytherin nature to be nosy. "But I'm sure she'll be perfect for your son." _Shit,_ Draco thought, _He's not marrying me off to Pansy Parkinson, IS HE?_

"I understand, Mr. Klertain," Lucius chuckled all knowingly, "-Nice name by the way, did you think that one up all on your own? - Anyways, I'm not so sure the Dark Lord would approve of such matters. After all, she will have to seem missing."

"Nah, I'll say I sent her off to a muggle boarding school." The man named 'Mr. Klertain' laughed. "Besides, I know how much you care for your son – don't deny it. But I couldn't give a rat's ass about _her_. Her mother was a good bang once in a while though…" Draco leaned in closer to the door, almost falling over but he caught himself on the last moment.

"Well, why don't we discuss this with the Dark Lord?" Lucius offered.

"Lucius, you know as well as I do that the Dark Lord had to go back into hiding." Mr. Klertain spoke. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were afraid of her! She couldn't hurt a fly, much less alone your son. All she needs is the right… handling." Snickers from the incognito man, Mr. Klertain, were heard.

"I don't know if I want her sort in my house." Lucius said.

"Well, would you rather take all the trouble of kidnapping our kind, having to put up some random story, and do a memory charm? Wouldn't it be easier if I just gave her to you and you could do what you wanted with her 'til she died?"

"What's in it for you?" Lucius asked. Draco's heart nearly stopped. _What in Merlin's name were these two talking about? Kidnapping? Our kind? Her sort?_

"So glad you asked." The man laughed.

"Step into my office, we'll see what we can come up with." Lucius's and Mr. Klertain's footsteps trailed off and another door was slammed shut. Draco pried himself off the bathroom door; with a hasty rush he tied the towel more tightly around his middle, and then stepped out into the hallway. The cold hit his body and goose bumps prickled on his skin, but Draco wasn't in the mood for caring about this. With a lull emotion he made his way to his room and wished he could go back and eavesdrop some more on his Father's conversation. Who wouldn't, after all, when he was talking about a girl? As long as it wasn't Pansy Parkinson, Draco would smirk and get on with life.

"Hobbles?" He asked loudly as he saw what was laid out before him on the bed. "What the bloody hell is THIS?" Almost instantaneously, the House Elf called Hobbles appeared next to Draco.

"It looks like your pajamas, sir." Hobbles answered.

"I know that." Draco growled. "But what the HELL are RABBITS doing on them? The Quidditch silk t-shirt I can understand… but the pant bottoms are grotesque! RABBITS?"

"All respect, sir, Hobbles believes master's clothes are bunnies."

"Bunnies or not, I'm not getting into those." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Are you a dolt? Well of course you are. Get me some different pajama bottoms." Draco threw his wet towel to the floor and walked relaxed over to the dresser. "And where in Merlin's name are all my good boxers?"

"M-Master, p-please don't be upset with Hobbles." Hobbles begged, flinging himself on Draco's feet and crying. "Misses Master Malfoy t-told Hobbles to w-wash all of Master's clothes b-because---"

"I don't want a reason." Draco snarled. "Just get them back." He kicked the clinging house elf off his foot and rummaged through his drawer. "Well, at least you left some silk boxers…" Draco grumbled, pulling out a pair of dark black boxers. "Why are these still here?"

"T-Those are new, sir." Hobbles sobbed silently. "Misses Master Malfoy told Hobbles to bring these up for you until she in-inspects your clothes!"

"INSPECTS MY-- MOTHER!" Draco shouted, throwing on the black boxers and the long pajama bottoms with bunnies on them (Silk Quidditch shirt included in this). "You." He sneered to the house elf. "I'll take care of YOU later. For now - - - MOTHER!" He stormed out of his room and down the hallway, on his way to his mother's room. "What the fuck does she think she's doing? Inspecting my clothes? She's nutters!" He took a shortcut through a small hallway and realized it was probably around nine at night. Sure enough, the convenient grandfather clock shined 9:02. With a hasty march he opened his Parent's bedroom door and almost instantly wish he didn't.

On top of his mother, Narcissa, was Lucius, leaving smothering kisses down her neck and rubbing her breasts through her shirt. Draco's eyes went wide and he slammed the door, frightened and disgusted at what he had just seen. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!" He screamed, and shook his head in a start. "GROSS!" The door opened and Lucius Malfoy walked out, examined Draco's attire, and chuckled.

"One of these days, Draco, you're going to be enjoying a woman's company. You'll have to when you get married to carry on the Malfoy line. – Very… interesting night clothes, by the way." Draco narrowed his eyes and backed away from his father with anger. "Come now, Draco. What's with the sultry attitude?"

"Nothing you'd understand…" Draco mumbled, not looking his father in the eyes.

"Draco, how would you feel with having another servant around?" Lucius asked, and began to button up his cotton white long sleeve shirt, which had been open because of the… fun with his wife.

"Dark Lord's kind or House Elf?" Draco asked, rather bored.

"Well… something you've never had before, Draco." Lucius smirked and took his son by the shoulder. "Come, I've got a contribution waiting for you. A little something that the Dark Lord wishes for you to have." Draco's stomach growled. Offerings could wait.

"Can't I have something to eat first?"

"No. You're not to have food until you can show your decent respect to the Dark Lord." Lucius snapped, his attitude landing a perfect 180-degree turn. "You ungrateful brat. I nearly got my head severed off because YOU decided you didn't want to show your true self. Well, everyone knows who you are anyways. – A spoiled brat. – Get a move on, boy! Down the stairs you go. We're going to the ballroom. There a contribution from a friend of the Dark Lord waits." Lucius shoved his son rather rudely to the edge of the staircase, and Draco took off at once down them. Lucius swore he could have heard 'bastard' mumbled under his son's breath, but thought nothing of it. When Draco walked past the kitchens he looked hungrily at the goodies sitting outside the doors. But he dared not touch them, for his father would have a fit. Draco, after getting up an hour later from the Dark Lord's punishment, had told his father some pretty nasty choice of words. As a result, he had been told not to eat anything for a day as his punishment. _Bastard._ Draco thought. _You fucking did this to me you bastard and I want some food. You smirked when you saw me torn down to shambles. I hate you._

"We're here." Draco lulled, cocking his head to the side.

"Well, open the door." Lucius demanded. Draco rolled his eyes and opened the ballroom doors. Inside, he could hear small, faint breaths and someone crying softly. 'Shit,' he thought, 'this can't be too good.' He looked to his father for example, and got what he needed; a hint to go on was made. Draco took a step in the room and his footsteps echoed across the walls. Sitting in the middle of the ballroom was a girl, or what at least Draco assumed to be a girl. It was only the back of her head, after all. He could see her small, pale hands twisted in knots against the restraints of ropes, holding her arms behind her back. She was sitting on a brown, wooden chair; her hair was flying in an aurora of different directions, too bushy to be normal. Inside, Draco's heart gave a tremendous leap. Who was this person? Where was his 'contribution?' "This, Draco, is a tool." Lucius said, putting an arm around the weary Draco and leading him to the center of the room, towards the girl who's sniffles and small sobs were muffled with a gag in her mouth. "A tool for you to gain little emotion. – The Dark Lord would have wanted you to gain from this. He said that you must gain perfection: perfection is teaching others who rules them."

"W-Who is she?" Draco asked, gulping as Lucius guided his son in front of the girl. Her eyes were covered with a small scarf. Draco almost took pity on the creature, but thought better of it. _Probably was some muggle loving person who didn't give shit about what he was going through right now._ Not what he needed to put up with.

Lucius's mouth formed a small grin. "She is a gift from one of my close friends. Maybe she will tell her story, maybe not. For now, Draco, I wanted you to see whom you'll be practicing Dark Magic on. Andrew says she's a strong soul; we'll, rather you'll, break her down. But for now… I only mean for you to look." And with that Lucius left the room in silence. Draco looked as his father shut the door, so that all that shined through to the room were the large windows glimmering by the moonlight. And at that moment, Draco knew this was all a game to his father. A game to see his son either, crash and fall or live and become perfection. The Dark Lord thought that this girl was good for him? _How? What could she possibly have had to offer? All but her skinny, little twig of a body and sexy legs._ Well, in Draco's opinion at least. She was wearing a creamy nightgown that accentuated her body very well, or maybe that was just Draco's lack of sleep.

He smirked and watched as the girl moved in her seat, twitching slightly as if she had been hit by many spells to keep her quiet. And to top it all off, her feet… Draco almost vomited. Her feet were cut and slashed; they looked as if they stung like a million needles. With a slinky style he reached over and grabbed a stool near by, taking a seat across from the girl. Her head perked up at the sound of his chair scooting closer to her, and she wriggled closer to the back of her seat in fear. Draco couldn't help but smirk even more. He reached over and ran a hand up her leg; the girl jumped and whimpered. He rolled his eyes and took the gag out of the female's mouth.

"What's your name?" He asked in a harsh tone. "Whomever you are, you're a pretty big dolt to be messing around with my Father's friends… are you mental? And further more, let me tell you, I'm not taking care of you like a pet like I know my father wants me to do with you because frankly you don't look like the sort who wants help---"

"Just shut your mouth, will you?" The girl snapped, shocking Draco very much. _Who does she think she is talking like that to a Malfoy?_ He wondered. "YOU don't know what I've gone through so YOU can just shut YOUR mouth until I can find a way of getting out of here." The girl spat venomously.

"Now look here, muggle, you've no right to start snapping at me---"

"Oh, I think I have EVERY right; I'm NOT a muggle."

"Y-You're not?" Draco sat stunned. "But then why would you be tied up like some sort of DOG?" If this was some sort of sick joke his father was playing, he wasn't into it. "A pureblood witch should never be tied up like an animal…"

"I'm not a pureblood. – Now will you let me go?" She begged. "I… I don't want to be tied up like this! If you could only hand me my wand and let me go, I'd be ever thankful to you…"

"And in debt." Draco smirked. "And I don't feel like having someone in debt to me while I'm trying to 'gain perfection.' – Guess you'll just have to stay. If you're not a pure blood you're really not worth the effort. And I asked you what your name was."

"I heard you." The girl snapped, moving her leg to the side as Draco moved it up higher past the hem of her dress. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know." Draco honestly answered, leaning over and persisting up her skirt. _Hmm… she's one tough one_. He thought to himself as she closed her legs as close together as possible and kicked at him, only missing by a mile because she was blinded with the scarf. "My father wants you to be my –what did he call it?"

"Andrew called it a slave." The girl answered. Draco smirked even more. "C-Can't you let me go?"

"Now, if I let you go that would mean that I'd be a nice guy – and to be honest with you, I'm the boy your father always warned you about. You know, the kind that would sneak up in your room and throw you to a bed, make love to you, and then not call you the next day. That's the kind of guy I am." He moved his cold fingers up her leg to her thigh and took his other hand to remove the scarf. _Lets see who this little beauty is…_


	4. His Suspicions & Her Testing

**A/N (Frayed-Hope): **Well here we are with another chapter of Into the Wind. If you ever want to check on the status and progress of this story, you can go to my profile and there will be a section that says what we're currently working on. EVERYBODY WHO REVIEWED THANK YOU SO MUCH! We both appreciate it and always look forward to getting feedback and reviews! Thanks again. Oh, and just as a warning, the end of this chapter gets a little… nasty. So if you're one of those people who care not to read "pasta cooking" scenes (you'll find out about the term somewhere in the middle of this chapter) then beware of the last 3 or so paragraphs.

**A/N (RootbeerFloat): **Welcome reviewers, to chapter 4! Ah, its a lovely day in the neighborhood... nah, just kidding. I hope you all like this chapter, and don't forget to feed our random plot bunnies! -Oh and by the way to **fangirl**, thank you for the review! It just added on to the list! Honey, if you want to be rude, go ahead, but remember you're dealing with an author who got 4700 reviews on one story before. AND an author who tops the charts in her fantastic new work.

**NOTICE: This chapter has been revised and edited! An approximate 130 some words have been added. So please feel free to reread the chapter! And for those of you, who haven't read this chapter at all yet, pay no attention to this and read on! (And yep this notice means that chapter 5 is comin' super soon!)**

His Suspicions & Her Testing 

-**Chapter 4**-

_How did I end up here? Where is here? The last thing I remember was taking a quick rest on the curb… did someone follow me? Who? Why? I bet Andrew has had his hand in this, but what role is he playing? What's going on? Who is this guy? Fine, if this boy wants to play this game, then let the games begin._ Hermione thought daringly.

Hermione forced herself to straighten up as best she could, square her shoulders back, and gathered her wits before shakily asking, "C-Can't you let me go?"

"Now, if I let you go that would mean that I'd be a nice guy – and to be honest with you, I'm the boy your father always warned you about – you know. The kind that would sneak up in your room and throw you to a bed, make love to you, and then not call you the next day. That's the kind of guy I am." The mysterious boy moved his cold fingers up her leg to her thigh and took his other hand to remove the scarf.

Hermione squirmed in her seat, from both not liking his answer and recognizing his voice from somewhere, but that somewhere and who he was she couldn't quite put her finger on. Her mind was working especially hard trying to figure out these seemingly difficult questions, that she failed to notice what he was doing. _I know that voice! Who does it belong to? Think Hermione, THINK! You can put a face to his voice... it sounds so familiar. Not exactly pleasant familiar… _

The boy reached around and untied her blindfold, letting it drop into his hand. He looked up from the scarf; wide brown eyes met icy silver orbs. His mouth dropped open about an inch or so, before he realized that he should close it.

Hermione's expression was one of shock at first, but it quickly grew into one that suggested she understood as she rolled her eyes and glowered at him maliciously. _Of course, who else better to use a worthless 'mudblood' for a slave, than a Malfoy. _ "I should've known that you'd stoop this low, Malfoy. Using a human as a slave... I almost would have thought that you'd have more class than to degrade a human being to this extent." She sneered with pure loathing. "-But apparently not."

Draco glared at her as he spat, "Ah, ah, ah Granger. You may be a human being, but you're still a dirty mudblood. Oh, and…_mudblood _don't get any ideas of escaping, we wouldn't want that, now would we? My father gave you to me as a present; you're my new contribution. What for, I don't know, but don't anger me Granger." Draco smirked his most famous and renowned smirk. "Or things will not be all _peachy perfect_ for the _Golden Girl_. There will be grave consequences." And with that Draco retied the blindfold tightly back on her.

"DRACO MALFOY! Don't you dare put that back on me! You have no idea what I've gone through, you impudent, spoiled ferret! I-" She fumed, but was cut off by a gag being shoved in her mouth and fastened behind her head roughly. _ What does he think he's doing, treating ME this way! I don't need to take this shit from him; he has absolutely no clue what the meaning of pain is! I can't believe he just did that! Damn Malfoy…_

---------------

The first words to enter Draco's mind were_: If life could be put into a monologue, there would be enough dialogue in one day to write a novel_. And as Draco put the blindfold back on Hermione Granger, after arguing for a minute that seemed like an eternity, he exhaled a silent sigh of relief. This was only Granger, after all; but the thought of the very mudblood he attended school with being his present, didn't quite satisfy the big gift he was expecting. In other words, it was a semi let down. But for the life of him he could not believe something so delicately bittersweet had presented itself in such a way that he was able to get Granger back for all the times she humiliated him, thinking she was superior to him. _Ha! That's a laugh, look who's so high and mighty now Granger!_

"Now, listen here _Granger_! Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm the one with control over you, _not_ the other way around." Draco seethed coldly. Without a further word, he stood up, knocking the stool over. Not bothering to pick it up, he marched towards the entrance, when a large shadow cast itself for all to see in the only exit of the Ballroom. Draco knew immediately who it was. His father had come, no doubt, to possibly take back the mudblood and do a memory-tampering spell; this had all been some mistake. But as Lucius bid his son a goodnight, Draco became extremely confused. Something in his father's eyes told him 'you'll understand soon enough' and with that he extended his long slender index finger towards the door, nudging for Draco to leave.

It was all so confusing that, as the blond left, he kicked the stool that was currently on the ground, angered by Granger. If anything she was a pet: a pet to the Malfoy line. Like a dog, if you will, that he could kick anytime he felt like it, just for the sole reason of being under his feet at the wrong time. And this most definitely was the wrong time. Draco was in a manic-depressive state, leaving his judgments often impaired and without logic.

He recalled a small memory of one time, only a short fortnight ago, where Pansy had stopped by for an afternoon tea with her mother and decided to actually talk to Draco during their second helping of cookies. It had been a dull conversation about Professor Snape's herbs quiz, but it was enough to drive Draco to an odd bustling state of mind, where anything Pansy said began to get on his nerves, and soon he excused himself and boarded himself up in his room. By that time he had decided that he would much rather stay locked in his room than listen to a rambling, silly girl with her own opinions. Granger was another one of those girls. He of COURSE knew what it felt like to be torn up. If anything, she had no idea what HE was going through. She always had Golden Boy Potter and Weasley, King Of The World's Worst Quidditch. But now… _heh, I'm glad she's here. This way she'll see life through my eyes. Maybe a little torture would bring the little mudblood to her knees._ After all, SHE had no idea what HE was going through.

And with that stubborn thought, Draco boarded himself in his room once more and jumped on his bed, screaming into a pillow. _Damn it, Damn it_. He thought over and over again. _Why must Granger have to work my last nerve? Why was it HER? Of all the people in England, it had to be HER? She's infuriating! Stuck up! Arrogant!_ – _Heh, and also now under my control_. His manic-depressive state lightened up slightly at the thought of torturing Granger. It didn't mean much to his father who this was –but to Draco? Oh, this was like Christmas in July. He could take all of his anger out on that mudblood wench. Maybe that was all he needed? Just someone to – not to talk to, that would be ghastly. _Imagine? A Malfoy chatting with a muggle born? Not on my watch!_

Suddenly a muffled scream was heard through the north end of Draco's room, right in front of the headboard of Draco's lavish bed. At first, Draco assumed it was his mother and father 'cooking pasta' (their pet name for doing the deed) again, but as a knock came upon his door, and the sound of his mother's voice entered his ears, he knew there was not a normal thing going on in the next room. "Come in." He said, still trying to concentrate on the sounds in the room to the side. His mother walked in, hair tousled in a bun and negligee. She was holding a tray of fruit and a glass of pumpkin juice. Draco sat up on his bed, looking slightly dazed. "Why aren't you in bed?" He asked, scratching behind his neck and pretending to yawn, as if he were sleeping the entire time previous to his mother stepping foot in his room.

Narcissa lay the contents on the tray down on the edge of Draco's bed and said, "Your father is doing some work in our room – its very important to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. I decided to keep out of his way."

"Mum," Draco said, still wondering what kind of 'work' his father was up to, "You can call him the Dark Lord."

"I know," She said dully, "But I prefer not to get into the habit of that. When I'm around people who are not of our… status, I cannot simply say 'Dark Lord.' It'll blow your father's cover. – Your cover as well. My men must always prevail." She kissed Draco on the cheek, Draco reluctant to the kiss, and she strolled back over to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sleeping in one of the guest rooms tonight, dearest." And with that she left, shutting the door behind her. Draco now knew something terrible was up. Shit hitting the fan, if you will. Draco's father and mother _always_ slept in the same room together, even if they were extremely irritated with one another. Often Narcissa would refuse to give her husband sex for weeks on end over the smallest thing, like him not buying her the diamond ring she saw in the window a few weeks earlier. He would often say, 'How am I supposed to know when you want something, woman?' But she would get her way in the end.

Just as Draco was biting into a small apple he acquired from the tray, he heard another muffled **scream** and a sound much like that of a **bed squeaking**. Draco raised an eyebrow. His father was supposed to be in his parent's room. But his parent's room was two hallways down the staircase and a left turn at the redwood-framed picture. The only rooms surrounding Draco's were guest rooms for his friends that he didn't have. With a frown he stood up off of his bed and wondered if his mother was sleeping in the room next to him, but the sound that he heard confirmed his greatest fears. His throat caught as he heard the sound of his father's faint voice through the walls, incomprehensive and yet clear. Draco knew his father's deep, smooth voice anywhere; it was the one he would often run from as a child. The other voice was high, faint, distant… almost childlike.

Draco leaned in and put his ear to the wall, so that he might make out the words each one was saying better. Could this possibly be some affair his father was having? Draco always suspected the little flirts Lucius Malfoy had with the high-voiced secretary at the Ministry of Magic. Once he had walked in on his father having a mistress laying on the bed when Draco was only eight, but he had explained that this was only a test he was giving the girl, and that Draco had to be a 'big boy' to understand. Later on, Draco understood fully what the term _affair_ meant. And his father had MANY.

But this wasn't the normal sounds of an affair; usually there were giggling and chuckles, not to mention screams of passion involved. This, however, was oddly different. There wasn't much noise (of course the wall was in the way of any real sound) and what sound there was sounded unnatural. There was a **scream**, a **cry**, a **thud**, and a **moan**. All this went by in a blur of noise so fast it took Draco a few moments to decipher one from the other. Brutally confused, he backed away from the wall and as quietly as he could, tiptoed down the staircase and around a few corridors to his mother and father's bedroom. This was the place Lucius Malfoy had told his wife that he was busy at, and that he would be occupying it the entire night. As he twisted the handle, an eerie chill settled over his bones, almost as if the room froze in a dead fury of emptiness. The door swung slowly open, making a slight creek, the room was dark.

Draco peered inside, making sure it was safe, before he took a step inside. As he looked around, he realized that not only was his father not in here, but the room had also not been occupied at anytime during this day besides the morning. The bed was still made up from a house-elf cleaning this morning. Draco knew his father loved to work in the nude underneath his covers, shuffling papers here and there across the bed. But the bed was simply untouched, as was the entire room. If Draco could pale more against his already whitish skin, he would have done so now, if it weren't that all the blood was rushing through his heart so fast that he began to turn red.

He slammed the door shut and ran up his staircase with a swiftness that only a Slytherin Seeker could have gotten away with and sneaked back into his room. This time he was sure it was his father in the next room. And the more he thought about it, the more he knew who was in the next room with Lucius Malfoy.

-------- Meanwhile --------

_That…that… impudent little ferret! HOW DARE HE? _Hermione, now quite agitated, was fuming, ranting, and raving at Draco, but all that actually came out was a mixture of muffled sounds and slurred speech, that was simply impossible to interpret. Stopping, she strained to hear what was going on. From the sound of it, somebody was at the door, and Draco was leaving. _Thank Merlin he's gone…_ _Now how the hell do I get out of here?_ Hermione squirmed, trying to break free of the binding that was currently keeping her to the chair and this cold, uncomfortable place.

Lucius smirked as he watched Draco's retreating back. Turning to see Hermione struggling he sneered, "It's no use trying to break free, _doll_. There's dark magic binding you to this very spot."

Hermione, upon hearing the chilling, bitter voice of Malfoy Senior and distinguishing whom it belonged to, stopped struggling and sat there silently, praying for the best. The best? Well, the best that could come from being bound and in the presence of Lucius Malfoy. Hermione suddenly felt herself being lifted and released from the chair. Then, before she knew what was happening, she was dropped. Landing on her shoulder with a loud thud and a sickening crack, she felt her shoulder start to throb. She whimpered under the pressure and aching in her shoulder. _Oh great-ahh- just what I needed, more agony to –ahhh- abide through._ Her thoughts were saturated with sarcasm.

Sure enough, Lucius had pulled out his wand and unbound Hermione from the chair. He levitated her a good seven feet and let her plummet to the ground, just to see the satisfying result. He chuckled a few evil laughs, satisfied with the outcome. "Oops, did _I_ do that?" He laughed. "So very sorry. Let me take you and" He smirked, "…fix you up." He placed a magic, invisible leash on her and walked out of the ballroom, Hermione trailing behind.

She was being drug like some sort of pet behind it's master, she didn't like it, but at least she didn't have to walk on her glass embedded and bloody feet any longer. She had done enough of that attempting to flee from Andrew. Hermione was in too much pain to even think about means of escape, so she let herself be led to wherever he was taking her. Clutching her shoulder, she was tugged over stairs, hallways, and through doors. She was sure everything in the mansion was extravagant, but she couldn't tell, for the blindfold was still blocking her eyesight. Though, little did she care about the wealth of the Malfoys, at the moment she had much greater issues to worry about.

Lucius had earlier talked to Narcissa, so he knew she wouldn't get in the way of his plans. And as for Draco, Lucius didn't care if he saw or _heard_ the mudblood's testing, it'd help him become stronger and less emotional anyways. He purposely led her to the room next to Draco's, opened the door, and entered, dragging a shaking Hermione along with him.

Hermione, upon feeling the halt of movement, became very nervous. She still was hoping for the best, though, at this point it seemed she'd even be better off stuck with ferret face, as opposed to his father. Lucius undid the blindfold and the simple charm he used to get her there, but left the gag where it was, secured in Hermione's mouth, making the sides of her mouth sting and become raw. She blinked a few times, letting her honey eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and stood up. Lucius's face came into view and she glared at him, her glare sodden with repugnance. He flashed a smirk at her, matching the loathing in her dagger-glares with his smirk.

"Andrew said you were a hard one to break, a tough bitch, eh? Well, let's see just how 'strong-willed' you are." He pushed her against the wall, jamming her injured shoulder into the hard surface and crushing it in. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to scream out from the hurt. He laughed, as he felt more of the bone in her shoulder shatter, and as he felt her warm blood trickle down his hand. Letting go of her shoulder, he forcefully slammed her against the wall with his body; he could feel her entire body shaking. He lowered his head to her ear and whispered dangerously, "This is only a mere taste of what's to come, think of this as a favor. A favor of making you prepared. Whether you like it or not." She turned her head away from his, struggling, trying to move from her current position between him and the wall.

"Not comfortable, doll?" He grabbed her hair and jerked her head towards his, "Let me see if I can help." He snickered another malevolent laugh and threw her onto the bed. Knowing she was too weak to try to escape, he didn't bother with any binding spells or charms. But just to make sure she truly was too weak, he took out his wand and muttered an Unforgivable curse. "Crucio!"

Hermione's eyes went wide, as she **screamed** and doubled over when the curse hit her. "AHHHHH!" Her shriek was heard even through the gag, and it was one of extreme suffering. Every binding nerve in her body was crying out in pain, she could barely breathe. After a few, but long minutes of agony, Lucius decided to be… kind and hinder the Unforgivable, well at least for the time being.

"Hurting yet, you filthy dog?" Lucius derided. "I'm thrilled to hear it." Lucius tore off his shirt and leapt onto the **bed**, with only a slight **squeaking** noise indicating he had gotten closer to Hermione. In one quick motion he flipped Hermione over and straddled her, keeping her pinned to the bed with no room for her to struggle. Hermione, shaking quite violently at this point, was squirming and cringing in pain from her shoulder and the Crucio curse. Lucius, eager to test the mudblood, ripped off her clothes with a sly, sadistic grin. His grin only became wider at hearing the whimpers of his, or rather his son's, newest toy.

_The... bastard… has…no…idea what… I've… already been…through… damn Malfoys! Get off... ME!_ Hermione's thoughts were obviously of no assistance in prying her from her current situation, as Lucius continued to strip off her clothes. _What the... fuck is he... doing? _Suddenly a dreadful realization dawned on her. _Oh Merlin no…no… please.. n-noo.. DON'T!_ By now Lucius had rid them both of all clothing and was smirking the trademark Malfoy smirk. He gripped her body with cold hands. His nails digging deep into her skin, breaking the skin and drawing blood in ten separate patches. Her shoulder, still dripping crimson was aching tenfold, as the open wound came in contact with the white bed sheets and left a dark ruby stain. She couldn't hold back her **scream** any longer, and it came out in a short helpless wail of distress. Lucius seized this as the opportunity to commence his testing, and thrust into her harshly, over and over again. Tears began pouring down her cheeks, and a **cry** of torment escaped through the gag.

Faster and harder Lucius pounded into her, laughing all the while with his sick and twisted cackle. Hermione was crying and whimpering, praying that it would stop, had her eyes squeezed as tightly shut as possible, trying to drown out the reality of what was happening. Lucius soon climaxed, with one last merciless thrust, and threw her to the floor with all of his strength. Hermione, after hitting the floor with a loud **thud**, **moaned** as darkness enveloped her sight, smell, sound, and all sense of anything around her, for the second time in the past two days.

This chapter was written by: Sarah (mostly) and Amy

**A/N (Both of us):** Hope the chapter was up to standards. Please leave a review, to tell us what you think. Even if it is just one or two words, we'll appreciate it none-the-less! Next chapter is currently being written, so it's well on its way (seriously this time)!


	5. Cruel Intentions

** A/N (Frayed-Hope): AT LONG LAST!** After over 6 months of waiting, here is the 5th chapter. Truly, I am so sorry for the wait, between moving states, school problems, and absolutely no contact from Amy, this chapter was delayed for eternity! I can honestly promise you that the next chapter will not take so long for me to post. Please review? It definitely helps me to write more and faster. It gives me fuel to be inspired while I write, if you know what I mean. But enough of that, on to the WHOLE of chapter 5! (PS- I'd like to tell all of my faithful readers for waiting and reading up on this story! Thanks everyone, it's much appreciated!)

_ Cruel Intentions_

-**Chapter 5**-

When the sun rose on the Wiltshire hills near Malfoy Mansion, Draco was wide awake and staring up at the ceiling, watching a spider crawl along the white planks of redwood that ended at a point at the top on either side. The spider was small with pointed, hairy legs and small fangs that Draco could even see from far away. Sometimes his eyesight was keener than a normal human's and Draco believed it was because of his abnormally gray eyes. True, people did have blue-gray eyes at a given, but his eyes almost left no trace of blue and too much silver.

A knock on the door and Narcissa yelling, "Breakfast darling!" Sent Draco's thoughts spinning back into reality and he blinked for the first time in several minutes. He would have liked to stay in his room, contemplating about life or his more favored option, masturbating, but he knew he had to get up. Life was never good to a Malfoy who didn't wake up at the crack of dawn. He glanced over at his clock to find that it was six o'clock in the morning, and decided to check to see whether the house elves had replaced his clothes over night or not. With a smirk he got up and walked over to his closet to find that yes, indeed they had brought his clothes back. He glanced down at his clothes, decided that his boxers and Quidditch t-shirt would do for now, and exited his room.

He wasn't the only one leaving the hallway. Lucius Malfoy emerged from the bathroom next to Draco's room with a smirk plastered on his face and a snakelike twinkle in his eyes. He wore a cotton green towel around his middle as he glanced at Draco before saying, "Good morning, Draco my boy."

"Morning." Draco mumbled in acknowledgment. "Are you done hogging the bathroom?" Not that Draco cared. There were six bathrooms in this area of the manor. In his opinion it was a bit overkill.

"Of course." Said Lucius, and nodded, before departing into the bedroom next to Draco's. Draco blinked before walking up to the bathroom door and shutting it, but not from the inside, from the out. He let his father believe he was inside the bathroom before slyly gliding to the edge of the hallway at the staircase and sitting down at the top step. It wasn't long before he saw his father's pointed nose poke out from the doorway of the guest bedroom and peer around, watching to see if anyone was around. As far as he could see there wasn't, and he didn't notice Draco. For a moment Malfoy Junior believed that his father was going to go back into his room but instead he hissed out, "Get up you ungrateful brat."

Before Draco's very tired eyes, Lucius dragged out Hermione Granger, who had bruises on her arms and a very nasty looking, deep purple one on her face. She was dressed in a strapless black morning dress that barely covered her breasts and would've been quite flattering, if not for the fact that it showed her many cuts and marks. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and her bushy hair seemed to make a wad of brown curls. She had a glare that would scare the dead while Lucius put an arm around her blood-encrusted shoulder and led her down the hallway.

Draco watched in slight horror realizing exactly whom his father was bedding last night. _A mudblood. A sick and twisted, little mudblood._ And then Draco formed the idea that Hermione had purposely slept with his father. There was no other explanation as to why his dad would even dare give her a second glance. _She had to have seduced him. That little whore… I never knew she was so…_

"Draco!" Lucius called out, "Draco, come here a moment!" Draco narrowed his eyes and instantly rose from his position into sight. Lucius looked taken aback for a moment before saying, "Take the mudblood down to breakfast. -Don't feed her. Sit her down at the seat next to you."

"Sure." Draco said coldly, and eyed Hermione over before nudging for her to follow him. Hermione glared back at him and followed without a word down the staircase. But right before they got to the bottom he said, "And if you dare try to steal that wand out of my pocket like I know you're trying to do, you can forget it." He heard a sigh and upon hearing it, he smirked to himself. He led her down a hallway, through a few living rooms, and to the dining hall. No one was there at the moment, apart from a few house elves setting the tables. As soon as they saw Draco, however, they immediately took off.

"Got the house-elves so afraid of your face?" Hermione sneered, causing Draco to turn around and raise his eyebrow.

"No, they must have run when they saw _your_ putrid face. Sit down." He ushered to a seat made of dark mahogany wood with deep green cushions in front of a vast table set for a king or queen. The silverware wasn't even the normal sterling silver; bright, gold-plated forks and knives wrapped in small claret napkins were placed at the sides of beautiful china dishes. It was almost too good to be real, but Malfoys seemed to always have the best, no matter what the expense.

"What if I don't want to?" Hermione asked. "You're not my mother." "And I good and well hope I'm in no way related to you either. NOW SIT DOWN." Draco tapped his foot impatiently. Hermione shook her head with a grin. "Why not?" _That little bitch better not be playing games with me…_

"Because I don't feel it proper for a Malfoy with such 'high status', such as yourself, to tell me to sit down without pulling the chair out for me." Hermione smirked ever so slightly and crossed her arms. Draco was a little taken aback, but soon realized that no matter how much he hated to admit it, Malfoys WERE supposed to have charm, and he was showing none. Luckily his sarcasm got the best of him.

"If you were a lady I might just do that." He smirked, "Or maybe even a female." The smirk on Hermione's face disappeared right then. She abruptly plopped her body down in the seat while her eyes flickered with malice. Draco could only laugh to himself at his witty comment and sat down in his own seat next to her, but instead of sitting in it properly, he laid across it sideways, so his feet were in Hermione's lap. "Granger, I seem to have a foot cramp, would you mind rubbing my big toe?" He smirked. Hermione looked to him with an appalled face. She reached up and twisted his big toe until a pain shot through his foot and he jerked away, falling out of his chair in the process. "Oof!"

"Draco, dear, please do get up. We have company." Narcissa Malfoy motherly said to him as she entered the room dressed in a summer daisy dress. She had on the arrogant Malfoy smirk as she sat down across from Hermione.

"Yeah… right." Draco stood up and brushed himself off as best he could before sitting properly in his seat with a glare sent towards Granger's way. "Company." Everyone looked up when they saw a man standing in the doorway, dressed in a green bathrobe and his hair slicked back like it usually was. Lucius Malfoy had entered the room.

"Morning, everyone." He said, strolling over and giving his wife a not so loving kiss on the cheek, in which she gladly returned the favor. "And Draco, since you've been good these last few days, I'm going to allow you to eat. But you best make it last, at the rate you're going you might not eat until next Tuesday after this."

"… Why is that?" Hermione asked after a long silence. All Malfoys looked to her with an odd expression. "Did I give you permission to speak?" Lucius sneered. "Well, no, but I-" "Then shut your mouth and be silent." "Father doesn't like to talk in the mornings," Draco whispered under his breath, "He's not really a morning person."

"I heard that, son." Abruptly the entire table was filled with morning treats such as eggs, toast, jellies, and an assortment of puddings. Draco watched as the ever-annoying bookworm suddenly turned into a starving child before his very eyes. He knew that sitting here, watching her not being able to eat, was the same feeling of satisfaction that Lucius Malfoy got when Draco didn't eat. And suddenly Draco understood the meaning of the word _power_. "Draco," Said Lucius, "Before you eat don't forget to tie the muggle-born to her seat? Our guest needs to learn hardship." A feeling inside Draco could already tell Granger had suffered 'hardship', according to her gruesomely frail appearance, but now was not the time to ask questions. Leisurely, he drew his wand and bound her arms to the armrests of her chair.

Everyone ate in silence while Draco watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Hermione twisted and wriggled, trying to escape the magical binds. He smirked and purposely gave a muffled moan as he bit into a cream-cheese filled muffin. "Yum…" Hermione looked longingly at the muffin and glared at Draco, her stomach growled. "So Granger, care to tell us how you got those bruises and cuts?" He asked, finishing up the muffin. He watched as her head looked to the floor. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Leave it alone, son. She'll talk all in due time." Lucius smirked, while eating a bit of scrambled eggs. Narcissa seemed very set on studying her plate and Draco became slightly suspicious. He, of course, figured his father was feeling guilty over the entire 'letting Granger seduce him' thing, but said not a word in fear he might not get to eat again. The Malfoys ate quietly, keeping to themselves, before Lucius spoke up again. "After breakfast Draco, we're going to start your training again."

"Traini-?" Hermione started with renewed confidence, but Draco kicked her underneath the table so hard that it made her whisper, "Ouch…" "Yes Father." He mumbled. "Bring the girl to the cellar when you finish breakfast. -No longer than twenty minutes." "Yes Father."

"And get that ridiculous concealer charm off of you, boy." "… Yes Father." Draco glanced quickly up to his mother before dropping his gaze back down to his plate, all trace of his appetite lost. After hearing Draco's response, Lucius jerked his chair back and stood up. Without another word to his family or guest, he left, kicking a clumsy house elf on the way out. _Shit. Why does he always have to insist on me taking them off? Ugh, especially in front of Granger. It's not like he even really cares. The bastard._ Draco gave an aggravated sigh and shoved his plate away from him, unintentionally crashing into a delicate serving platter and breaking it. "Fuck." He cursed as the closest house elf came speedily waddling in to clean up the mess.

Narcissa made a 'tsk tsk' sound and scolded Draco. "Draco, dear. Please mind your language. It is not polite to say these things in front of our guest, even if our guest is of considerably lower status, intelligence, and _importance_." She stated, stressing the last word.

"Yes, of course Mother." Draco lulled, taking no note to change how he spoke around Granger. "Well, it's been… nice." Mrs. Malfoy said awkwardly before rising gracefully from her seat and exiting the dining hall with the superior Malfoy air.

Waiting for his mum to leave, Draco watched as Narcissa left with a flip of her well-groomed hair, and a roll of his eyes. Turning to Hermione, "I know that you mu-" He began but was ever so rudely cut off. That was it. Granger was in for it now. _First she seduces MY father, then she talks back –like she has the right to open her trap, and now she INTERUPTS ME? Oh that is just bloody it._ Draco smirked and pretended to listen for a short moment as she spoke.

"Malfoy, I don't know of your intentions for me, but be whatever they are, I'm sure you want me alive to find out. So give me-" "And I don't know who you think you are, speaking to me, Draco Malfoy, as if you were commanding ME to do something for YOU. HA! The sheer thought of a mudblood wench ordering me around! Why, it's preposterous!" He ran a hand through his pale blonde hair and his tone dropped into a chilling, cold whisper, "And don't you even think, in that frizzy little head of yours, that I don't know what you did to my father last night. You're. Just. Disgusting." He ended with a dramatic sneer.

Hermione looked dumbfounded. She had absolutely no clue in high heaven or hell as to what he thought she did. But she wasn't about to clarify what really did happen the night before. Maybe if she didn't think about it, it would just go away and never have happened. Shivering slightly, Hermione sucked in her breath and stared at the floor.

Draco heaved yet another angered sigh and narrowed his eyes, "Stay." He commanded, standing up and casting a full body-binding spell to keep Granger in the chair. Draco then strode to the massive doors and, before turning the corner he smirked and glanced back at the girl in the chair, a single tear shinning on her delicate face. Shaking the disgusting, faint feeling of empathy, he sharply turned and strutted the entire way to his room. Once there, he looked into the mirror. He suddenly began to worry, what was that repulsive sensation that lasted all of two seconds? Was he going soft? _I think not!_ His conscience opposed.

Surveying his attire, he decided to kill two birds with one stone- if you even understand such a grotesquely muggle phrase. This way he would not only prevent needing to do a cleaning spell on a bloodied-up shirt, but he would also draw satisfaction from intimidating Granger. Taking off his Quidditch shirt, he tossed it to the floor and flexed his toned muscles. He was extremely sore and really wished he didn't have training, but he knew it was no use trying to avoid it. Plus, intimidating Granger was only the first step. He was going to find out just what the hell she did to his father and teach her who is really in control. He would make the next two weeks payback. Revenge on the muddied princess of the Golden Trio, revenge for mocking him and a satisfying blow to Potter's massive ego. Fuck yes, he was going to enjoy this.

Grinning, Draco exited his room and glided down the winding stairs and to the dining room where he had left Granger. He raised a pale eyebrow as he neared the elegant room, spotting the empty chair where the wretched girl should've been. Creeping the rest of the way to the entrance, he stealthily craned his neck past the doorframe, surveying the _horrendous_ crime in action. A smirking, half-naked Draco emerged from the entrance, enjoying catching her red-handed. "Now, now Granger. Just what do you think you're trying –and quite horribly failing- to get away with this time?"

Hermione froze. Her compromising position, bent over the massive table on her tiptoes and her fingers holding a recently-plucked grape, made it impossible for her to come up with anything resembling a substantial or even believable alibi but, "Uhhh… Oops?" She laughed meagerly. Not daring to move an inch from how caught her.

"Oops? Oops! Oh please Granger, surely you can come up with something better than that." He chuckled as he eyed her over, taking note of her skimpy attire once again. After all he was a guy. And naturally, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. Call it primal instinct if you will. "Heh… sorry?" She tried again, hesitantly backing down from the table and standing upright.

After immediately ordering nearby house elves to clear the table of all dishes, and snapping his fingers to get rid of the excess food, Draco leered. Speaking in his sly, Slytherin tone he replied, "Aw, there's no need to be sorry, I was actually rather enjoying the show." He snatched the grape from her hand and watched as her desperate eyes flashed with hunger. "Not a half-bad body, but I really must say, those feet of yours are absolutely revolting. They really take away from the over all impact of the _display_."

Hermione was shocked and, to say the least, creeped out. Malfoy had just complimented on her body. What sort of vindictive dream was this? She wondered. "Oh, and by the way, nice panties, Granger." And now Hermione's expression resembled one of pure disgust.

"Eww, Malfoy. You're completely sick! I might venture to say that you're even more perverted and twisted than before, but come to think of it, you're exactly the same as your father. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all." Hermione spat, all the while trying to back away from his line of sight and cover herself up better.

"I'm like my father?! LIKE MY FATHER!" Draco repeated, now quite angry. "I'll have you know, that I'll never be like my father, you little bitch. You know nothing about me or my life, or even my _dear old dad_, so don't you dare make assumptions until you do know. And I plan on keeping it as it is, so you never will." By the end of his abrupt rant he had calmed down and began tossing the grape from one hand to the other.

Hermione stayed silent for a moment before retorting back with crossed arms, "Well same goes for me. And the only thing you'll ever know I'm going to tell you right now. I haven't eaten in days, and I don't mean just one, two, or even three, so if you'd be so unlike your cruel self for once and just give me the grape..."

"Granger, that's really quite pitiful." Draco sneered. "Do I look like I care? No, I don't. So join the club." He continued his game of tossing the small item of food back and forth. "But seriously, Malfoy, it's a grape. Not even two, it's just one grape." She tried to reason.

"Way to state the obvious Granger, for the second time. It's apparent that you haven't eaten, and it doesn't take Sherlock to figure out it's a single grape either." He paused, smiling mischievously. "But only on one -no two- conditions, will I give it to you." "Okay…" "One, you have to tell me why you haven't eaten in days and what happened to your feet." He waited for an answer.

"But that's two questions in one, and you said there were only two not three conditions, that's not fair." She whined.

"Either you want this or you don't." He tossed the grape in front of her face for good measure. "And it's like you said, two questions in one. So answer or no, either way it's not my loss."

Hermione gave an aggravated sigh. "Fine. I haven't eaten because Andrew wouldn't let me. And…" She stopped. "And your feet?" "Jlumphas" She mumbled something inaudible. "What?" He tapped his foot impatiently. "Glass."

Draco looked skeptical. "You're saying glass…" He trailed off after glancing at her feet again. They looked utterly sickening. "Ugh, never mind, I don't even want to know anymore." "Last condition?" Hermione inquired. At this he smirked and commanded, "Get down on your hands and knees and bark."

"You've got to be kidding me… that's ridiculous!" Draco dangled the grape above his mouth, threatening to devour it. "Damn Malfoy…" She muttered and got on all fours.

A couple very degrading barks on Hermione's part and a few howls of laughter from Draco later, Hermione rose to her feet to retrieve the well-earned grape. But right before Hermione took the grape, Draco withdrew his hand. "Ah, ah, ah Granger. You bark like a dog, you eat like one." And with that he dropped the grape and promptly stepped on it, squishing it into the expensively tiled floor. Draco stood watching Hermione through narrowed eyes as an amused chuckle escaped his lips.

Infuriated, humiliated, and starved, Hermione's head lifted from its position of gazing at the destroyed food she desperately needed and her hand raised, ready to strike Draco's cheek with a hard and resounding slap. Unfortunately, before her hand made the desired contact, he caught it and twisted it behind her back, pulling her closer to him and to his shirtless chest. "Ahh! Mal –ahh- foy! Let me –AHH" She struggled in vain.

Not allowing her to finish her request, Draco harshly yanked her wrist into an unnatural angle. She let out a scream that Draco muted by jerking her into his sculpted shoulder. Finally the vibrating of his shoulder stopped when her screaming died out, and suddenly his shoulder was wet, from her tears. The fiery gleam in his eyes faded to his normal silver color as realization of his actions dawned on him. Dropping her arm and wrist he stepped back from her form as she crumpled to the floor whimpering.

Shocked at his own actions and a little perturbed, Draco ran a hand through his blonde hair and attempted to help her up. "Here." He offered her a hand to lean on.

"Keep your dirty hands off me, Malfoy! Don't touch me." She said in a panicked voice, rising to her feet and clutching her aching wrist.

Taking a cold, defensive tone Draco answered, "Well you shouldn't have tried to slap me. Things have changed since the time you slapped me in third year, and now you know." He turned swiftly away from her and strode purposefully to the door. "Come Granger, to the cellar you go. Father has plans." He called back as he walked on. Hermione silently obeyed and followed behind by a few feet. " So _sorry_, but rules are rules." He stated, not sorry in the least as he conjured a black blindfold similar to the one she had worn before. Tying it roughly behind her head and making certain she couldn't see, he grabbed her other wrist and pulled her down many, many flights of stairs.

About four minutes later, after having passed through multiple doors and reciting two passwords, Draco stopped and untied Hermione's blindfold. "Where…?" She questioned quietly, quickly becoming fearful of her new surroundings. The few dim lights casting many ominous shadows and wrapping the entire area in a shroud of damp unknown.

"The cellar. A nicer name for what it really is. We-" Draco was interrupted. A long, cloaked shadow emerged from the darkness. "I'm sure you'll come to find it more of a dungeon than anything else really, mudblood." Hermione looked to Draco for a sign of whom this hooded man was, but it passed as if Draco didn't want her knowing.

"Damien, that's enough." A second hooded figure appeared. "We don't want to scare the girl before we even start training." The two, cloaked males exchanged an amused grin and pulled back their black hoods. Surprising to neither Hermione nor Draco, Lucius stood next to the slightly taller, dark-haired man, smirking. Damien was a good three inches taller than Lucius Malfoy, and had short black hair, or at least from what the poor lighting revealed. "Hello Draco." Lucius addressed his son.

"Father. Damien." Draco nodded to each in acknowledgement, dreading what he knew was to come. Lucius eyed Draco suspiciously, "I thought I told you to take that damned concealer charm off, boy!"

"I… Fine." Draco flicked his wand, simply saying "off" and abruptly bruises surfaced on his pale skin. Hermione gasped, quickly covering her mouth with her good hand, realizing her mistake. "I told you not to make assumptions." Draco calmly stated in Hermione's direction.

"Enough with the chit chat. Draco, your training begins now." Lucius demanded. "A game of cat and mouse, or to chain her?" Damien asked. "Draco will decide."

"Uhh…" Draco recalled the countless times of unwillingly assuming the role of 'mouse' in such a 'game' with his father. Deciding to save himself from becoming refamiliarized with the cruel form of beating, he contemplated 'the chains', what ever that meant. _- -Wait just a bloody minute… chain HER?_ He repeated Damien's words in his head and snuck a glance at a shaking Granger. _Merlin... that's what Father meant by 'contribution'. That's just… sick._ His thoughts racing, _I mean, I did want to get revenge on her, but not this way! A slave is a different story, but this is just inhumane._

"Yes Draco, which is it?" Demanded his father. Knowing he truly had no other choice but to do as Lucius wished, he replied with, "Chains."

Damien nodded with approval as Lucius said, "Very well. Now take the girl and attach her to these." Lucius waved his wand and four rusty, iron chains dropped from the center of the ceiling, each with an enchanted cuff hanging at the end of it.

Draco had never seen them before; he didn't even know they owned such devices. But doing as he was instructed, he dragged a flailing Hermione to the center of the now dimly lit room, cuffing her good wrist first. "Sorry, Granger." And now he truly was, well, only ever so slightly sorry. She turned her head away, avoiding having to look at him.

"Draco!" His father boomed. "Did I just hear you apologize?" Lucius paused then continued. "Never, NEVER again do I want to hear that from your mouth! You will not be sorry for what you do and you will not regret anything. You will not care about anything or anyone. And you certainly will not have useless emotions. Now get a move on, Draco."

"Yes, Father." Resuming with cuffing Hermione to the chains dangling nearly five and a half feet above the ground, Draco fastened her hurt wrist to the opposite manacle.

Now standing on her tiptoes with her arms held up by iron, Hermione mentally prepared herself for what was to come. Though, what was to come, she wasn't entirely sure. What she was sure of, however, was that she wished she were wearing something else. The revealing black silk dress hardly covered her breasts and barely reached halfway down her thighs. Since this was so, she also wished there weren't really three guys surrounding her and hanging her like an ornament or some kind of perverse play toy.

Finishing with last metal restraint, Draco tried to make eye contact with Hermione, who was now horizontally suspended from the ceiling, her face towards the ground. He could tell it was taking most of her strength just to tighten her weak muscles in order to stay straight to balance the weight pressure between three of her appendages. Draco stole a look at the wrist he had damaged earlier. It hung limply at an odd degree with an abnormal bend and a strange bump protruding from the side. He took a deep breath and looked to his father for further instruction. Damien and Lucius were sharing a conversation Draco particularly did not want to hear, so he turned to Hermione, still trying to make eye contact.

"Was… she was huh?" Said Damien's jumbled voice. Draco caught parts of their conversation as he readied himself for Lucius's commands. "Yea… And… pretty good… Well maybe… hell why not?" "So tomorrow night, I can have a go?" Now finishing up their conversation, Damien's voice returned to normal volume. "Yes. But you keep your word of not going 'entirely', if you know what I mean." Lucius said with a snicker. "Of course, Lucius..."

Intentionally tuning out the last words exchanged between the two men, Draco said quietly to Hermione, "Look Granger, I know how my Father works, and this isn't going to be pretty. -In the least. So, just because I don't want to be charged with assisted murder or anything of the sort, I'll be back later tonight to check on you. After all, I do want to be able to assume my position as _Head Boy_." He finished hurriedly, just as his dad and Damien approached.

"Comfortable?" Damien asked Hermione sadistically, running one of his large, powerful hands down Hermione's neck, where it rested on her bloody shoulder. As soon as his hand gripped her shoulder, pain shot through her body, radiating from the spot and drawing a few yelps. "Glad to hear it, _Hermione_." He said her name in a menacing, dirty tenor as he stared at her two top assets the dress didn't quite cover.

"Come now Damien, step aside and let Draco handle her." Lucius's voice drawled. After Damien retreated to the older Malfoy's side, Lucius gave his orders. "Obviously, the first lesson you need to be taught, Draco, is the lesson of power. The lesson of how to control people, and how to bring them to their knees. Most importantly, you need to learn how to get them to do what you want, but that's only after you've learned the earlier of the mentioned. Therefore, in order to understand and crave power, you need to feel the pleasure of it first." Lucius advised. "Yes Father."

"Follow Damien's example." He told his son. "Damien, if you will…" Damien simply grinned a gleaming-white grin, and pointed his wand at Hermione. "Levicorpus." He said in a crystal clear voice. Instantly Hermione was raised five feet higher than she was before, dangling by her ankle in midair. The lax links of chain now hung slack, looping towards the floor then turning upwards to connect with each cuff. Hermione bit her lip; she hated heights.

"Thank you Damien. So Draco, since you're to obtain power, do what you think you must in order to get it." Lucius watched with folded arms as Draco raised his wand and moved her all of six measly inches to the right. Mr. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, unhappy with the result. "Damn it boy, stop playing games with me. –Or you won't eat for a week, you can be sure of that."

"Yes, Father." Draco grumbled. He flicked his wand, saying "Liberacorpus." And the spell was lifted. Merely seconds later, the sound of iron chains clinking to a halt and a pained screech signaled the girl had hit chain's end, causing the weight of the fall to rip at the flesh of both her wrists and ankles. A few crimson droplets fell to the floor below her right ankle.

The two cloaked men laughed while Draco stood at the merciless command of Lucius, waiting for his orders. Still laughing, Damien managed to get out, "What goes up, must come down!" And more sniggers were heard from the two.

After composing themselves from their fit of 'manly giggles', Lucius raised an eyebrow and snapped, "What are you waiting for? I told you no more games Draco."

"Waiting for orders." Draco hissed out, hearing the labored breathing coming from his longtime enemy and fellow classmate. "Apparently you still have much to learn Draco. Damien, you have ten minutes to show the boy how to easily retract power from any given being. I'll be back shortly." And just like that, Lucius was gone.

"Well, doesn't look like your dad thinks you have balls enough to do it yourself, or maybe not the brains to figure it out." Damien said as he strode over to Hermione, whispering, "Tomorrow night, doll." Hermione whimpered and though Draco heard her cry of fear, he didn't much care so long as they didn't killer her, she was a mudblooded whore after all.

"Figure out what -that in his eyes I have to get power from somebody by beating them?" Draco shot back. "No, it's beyond beating." Damien paused. "Torture." Draco kept a nonchalant expression, "So?"

"So, the point is this… Intera Fernio." Damien said and just as quickly as the red light left his wand's tip, Hermione shrieked. Thrashing, screaming, and gasping for air, tears slid from her face as blood began seeping from her shoulder and feet, draining into pools beneath her.

Draco watched in slight horror as her screaming became raw wails, and more blood amounted on the stone floor. "And… what exactly does that spell do?" He asked casually.

"It's the curse of internal fire. Basically the victim feels as if a fire is burning the inside of their skin so their mind tricks their body into thinking it really is on fire. Naturally the blood rushes to any open cuts or wounds, and they soon bleed to death." Damien finished. "Cool, huh?"

"Yeah… cool." Draco replied. "So, when are you going to take it off? I mean, my dad wants her alive as MY tool, you know." Damien laughed. "Yes, I know. And he promised me something too. I guess I really should take it off soon, since we don't want her dying just yet." "Soon? Yeah, right. Try _now_." Came Draco's retort as he rubbed his temples, his head was killing him.

"Extingua Fernio." Damien recited and Hermione's struggling ceased. She hung there limply, letting the iron cut into her flesh and remain covered in her blood. "Your turn with the bitch. Too bad she's tired already, it's really no fun after that."

"Oh, I'm sure he can make it fun." Lucius said, having returned. "You had better have learned from Damien's example, hmm Draco?" He smirked and motioned to Damien to raise his hood up. "Yes Father, I did."

"Good, then let's see what you've learned; anything but the Avada." Lucius's smirk widened with anticipation. Silently cursing his father to hell and beyond, he turned without giving an answer and hissed, "Crucio."

Her eyes flew open and her muscles tightened with violent shaking as pain racked her body; her mouth open but no sounds coming from it. Hermione had already screamed her throat raw to the point that which she was now coughing up blood, writhing with unbearable agony.

"Good, Draco! I'm proud of you, my son. You may lift it when you choose." Lucius commended. It was then, on his first day of the Dark Lord's training that something inside Draco broke. Maybe it was from stress, maybe from pain, maybe from lack of sleep, or yet again, maybe not. But upon hearing his father's praise, Draco's small frown curved upwards and transformed into that famous Malfoy smirk they're known for.

Lucius raised a very bemused eyebrow. He had stated Draco could lift the curse whenever he wanted to, and yet the blond boy didn't. Instead, Draco watched in elation as the curse took its toll on the girl.

A few minutes passing, and Granger's state going from horrible to even worse caused Lucius to end Draco's bliss… for the time being. "My boy, you're going to kill her." And still the blond didn't lift the curse. "Draco, we need her for later. Although I am mildly proud of you and regret to stop a mudblood's suffering, you need to end that curse right now. Did you hear me, you little bastard, listen when I speak to you!"

And Draco did. "Seeing as we're done for now, or rather she is, I'll just leave her in the chains for later." Draco announced as he put a full-proof place-binding spell on the defeated girl and the iron restraints. Before leaving, Draco did a cleansing spell and rid the floor of all the blood and tears. Turning his back to his contribution he walked towards the door. "It's a pity you can't handle more, Granger." He said coldly with a laugh.

Lucius shook his head in disbelief and started laughing, Damien soon joining in. Striding over to Draco, Lucius laid an arm on his son's shoulders and led the way out of the dungeon, laughing all the while. Just before the steel door closed, Draco stole a glance back at Granger. Her black morning dress torn in places and falling off her tortured, slim figure, her body slumped slightly. And before Draco looked away, her eyes rolled back and her body went completely limp, dangling from the chains. His grin turning into a wide, white smirk.

-------- Twelve hours later --------

The rest of the day having gone by in an uneventful blur for Draco, consisted of the usual: lunch at noon on the dot, practice with flying techniques with his new broom, an afternoon nap, and dinner at 7:30. Slowly time passed after the Malfoys and fellow friend ate their exquisite supper, which was when Damien bid them all goodnight, bringing it to the present moment. Draco checked the time and, upon finding it to be eleven o'clock pm, stood from his comfortable spot on the bed and stretched. Carefully opening his door, Draco stealthily crept down the hallway and past his sleeping parents. Down the stairs and into the darkness, he made his way to the dungeon. A promise was a promise no matter to whom it was made, and Draco wasn't about to break one, maybe he'd even get lucky and get another Cruciatus curse in before he hit the sack, if she wasn't so fucking weak still. _Father would have a fit if I killed her so soon._

Closing the huge door behind him, Draco advanced to the sleeping figure bound by shackles. He slipped, catching himself before hitting the ground as he crossed through a puddle of liquid. Finding Granger in the same position as when he left, his eyes scraped over her injuries. Satisfied with what he saw, Draco turned on his heels and strode out of the cellar. His icy air barely keeping up with his swift steps, Draco stopped and called upon a house elf. A scraggly, frail little creature appeared instantly, waiting for orders with its head bowed in loyalty and pure fear. "Bring the pitiful thing in the cellar a half bowl of cold porridge." Malfoy commanded and the house elf nodded, turning to begin its task. "If I find that Granger has had anything other than a, that means one, bowl of porridge, OR any other form of help, that includes letting her free of the bindings, I will have your head. Next to the rest of your family's. Do you understand me?!" He roared loudly, although carefully so as not to wake his parents. The terrified creature managed a weak "Y-Yes. Yes sir, Mr. Master Malfoy sir." And scurried off to complete the job asked of him.

After journeying back to his room, Draco sat on the edge of his large bed and massaged his aching shoulders, rolling his head to the side to stretch various neck muscles every now and then. Yawning, he fell back on his bed and shut his eyes, falling into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. Unbeknownst to him, four levels below, a set of eyes blinked open and a gasp escaped her mouth, which was soon covered by a small, friendly, helping hand.

**A/N (Frayed-Hope):** Well...I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as I know it was a VERY long wait. And believe me, I know just how much everyone hates when an author doesn't update, especially for 6 months or so! I'm still hoping to contact Amy about writing this story but if I don't, I'll just continue writing this story by myself. Just FYI, I'm not exactly sure that fanfiction . net counts chapter replacements as updates. As always, I'd appreciate it beyond an imaginable extent if you'd leave a review and tell me how I'm doing! Even a measly 1 liner review is fine by me! 1 line for 18 pages? Sounds pretty fair to me! Alright, well after taking a look at the new rules for fanfic, I will no longer be addressing my readers in the form of author notes for each chapter anymore. But believe me when I say, I will respond to any messages you send, and I always appreciate reviews! Thanks again everyone, peace.

You know Amy would say it, so I'll say it for her… Apple hugs & Vanilla kisses! 


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